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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26885164">The Lies We Tell</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/StupendousMiscreant/pseuds/StupendousMiscreant'>StupendousMiscreant</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>I Never Believe Me [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BAMF Bucky Barnes, BAMF Natasha Romanov, BAMF Peter Parker, F/M, Hydra Peter Parker, Other, Peter Parker Speaks Russian, Peter Parker is Bucky Barnes's Biological Child, Peter Parker is Natasha Romanov’s Biological Child, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Protective Frank Castle, Russian Peter Parker, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:28:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,609</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26885164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/StupendousMiscreant/pseuds/StupendousMiscreant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Parker is just your average teenager, born and raised in Queens, New York. Son of Richard and Mary, nephew of May and Ben. He has never left the city, and he’s just trying to pass all his classes while balancing his life outside of school, like every other adolescent in NYC.</p>
<p>...or is he?</p>
<p>Pyotr Romanov, a ghost, is the son of the two greatest killers of the Soviet Union, thought to be dead by both the Red Room and Hydra. For years hidden under the cover of an American boy, the orphaned son of two scientists. </p>
<p>Love is for children, they say. Families were not allowed. It made everything less efficient, even killing. So what will happen when the love that sparks between the two best assassins Russia has ever seen threatens to tear all their carefully constructed plans apart?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bruce Banner &amp; Tony Stark, Clint Barton &amp; Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Danny Rand/Colleen Wing, David "Micro" Lieberman/Sarah Lieberman, Frank Castle/Karen Page, Frank Castle/Maria Castle, James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Matt Murdock &amp; Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker &amp; Natasha Romanov, Vanessa Carlysle/Wade Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>I Never Believe Me [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1961539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>208</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Author’s Note</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Author’s Message:</p>
<p>Hello potential readers! Writing a story like this has been on my mind for awhile, so I’m going to give this a go! I’m currently working on writing, but I thought I’d at least tell you all that there is something to *maybe* look forward to in the future if you are willing to be patient with me. The first chapter should be up soon, but I have to warn you that updates will be sporadic, as I’m busy with life outside of writing; however, this story will not be abandoned. Ever. This is my first attempt at writing, so I very much encourage any and all constructive criticism, and all mistakes made in the writing process will be my own. Kudos, subscribing, etc. are also very much appreciated! So, without further ado, sit back, relax, and my first update will be soon.</p>
<p>Thanks all,</p>
<p>-M</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. As above, so below</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys!</p>
<p>I’m alive! In true “me” form, as soon as I put a deadline on myself for writing...life threw a curveball (so to speak), so writing was a bit slow there for a while. Thank you all so much for your patience and support!</p>
<p>All mistakes are my own. I love any and all constructive feedback! I do not own.</p>
<p>Stay happy and healthy, y’all. Enjoy!</p>
<p>-M</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>May, 2002</p>
<p>Red Room</p>
<p>Unknown, Russia</p>
<p>“Подверни щиколотку, не дай серпу, Наталья.” (<em>Turn your ankle, do not let it sickle, Natalia.)</em></p>
<p>Natalia let out a slow breath. She could feel the eyes of her instructor and the younger girls lined against the wall, as well as the piercing gaze of Madame B. from behind the mirrored side of the one-way glass. As she finished her set of turns, she came down off the boxes of her shoes, delicately let her hands flow down behind her to rest at the small of her back, and slowly breathed in time to finish with the counting of the instructor. <em>Breathe in, breathe out.</em></p>
<p>“Пока этого будет достаточно, вдова.” (<em>That will be sufficient for now, Widow.</em>) Her instructor spoke from the chair in the far corner of the room with his weathered hands placed over his cane. Natalia’s eyes roamed over the younger girls; none of them could have been older than seven or eight. They observed her with a watchful eye, their expressions as blank as their less experienced minds would allow. The intimidation in their eyes was clear as she gracefully walked towards the bench to take off her shoes.</p>
<p>Untucking and untying the satin of her ribbons, Natalia pulled off her pointe shoes to dispose of them. She was feeling the floor under her toes and the shank had broken down to the point where she lacked the support she needed to stay on pointe. Picking them and herself up, she turned to leave when Madame B walked in.</p>
<p>“Со мной, Наталья.” (<em>With me, Natalia.</em>) Madame B then turned and walked out without looking back. There was no need to, the command was clear, she would be foolish to question or hesitate to follow any of her superiors and their orders.</p>
<p>Natalia stopped at the glass next to Madame B, taking note of the class of thirteen-year-olds that were lining up against the barre. Looking at the girls warming up, she didn’t see the strong operatives the Room was training them to be. Not yet, they still needed to prove themselves to be the best of their class to become the next Black Widow.</p>
<p>Natalia listened to the counts as she said, “Вы их сломаете.” (<em>You’ll break them.</em>)</p>
<p>“Только хрупкие. Вы сделаны из мрамора. Будем праздновать после выпуска.” (<em>Only the breakable ones. You are made of marble. We will celebrate after the graduation ceremony.</em>)</p>
<p>Natalia felt a knot form in her stomach. The graduation ceremony meant being sterilized. Part of her knew she would never be able to have children or form relationships with anyone. Connections made you weak, and weakness wasn’t tolerated in the Red Room. Weakness got you killed. Natalia was not stupid enough to delude herself with such fantasies of having a lover or a friend; there was no future for someone liked her. A killer like her.</p>
<p>There isn’t a life for you if you fail your tests, either. She thought cynically.</p>
<p>“Что если я проиграю?” (<em>What if I fail?</em>) she said aloud.</p>
<p>Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Madame B turn her head to read her student’s face. Expressionless, she continued to look at the girls now performing a variation of Swan Lake, taking note of the small movements that displayed each ballerina’s level of technique. All of them were nearly flawless, but only some made the movements look as easy as a human’s motion of breathing. Others were too tense in their joints, not allowing for the visual fluidity that continued to make ballet a spectacle for hundreds of years after it was created.</p>
<p>Madame B’s head had turned back to watch the dancers. Spoken with a note of finality, she said, “Вы никогда не проиграете.” (<em>You never fail.</em>) The tone of her voice made Natalia want to shiver. Internally clenching down on her body’s urge to show external discomfort, no change was shown outwardly to the other woman.</p>
<p>As much as she tried to tell herself otherwise, Madame B always managed to put her on edge. Something about the glint in her eye or the continuous impassive expression on her face paired with the analyzing stare of her dark, nearly black, eyes never ceased to raise the hair on the back of Natalia’s neck.</p>
<p>Efficiently spinning on her heels, Madame B once again didn’t bother to turn back, knowing that the nineteen-year-old was following her as Natalia had yet to be dismissed. Walking along the dark hallways of the Red Room, it was clear that it was meant to showcase the best of Russian architecture, with its intricate wood carvings and splashes of neoclassicism that was reminiscent of the Imperials. With its maze of hallways and secret doors, one would certainly get lost if unfamiliar or inexperienced walking within the Red Room’s walls.</p>
<p>This was not the case for Natalia. She followed a few paces behind Madame B with a purposeful gait. She didn’t know what she was being summoned for. She never did. But, it would be considered disrespectful to her superiors to ask unnecessary questions, and frankly a waste of breath as she would likely be told within the confines of the older woman’s office.</p>
<p>Stepping across the threshold of the door, she eyed the room for threats. They weren’t alone. Four men stood around the office. Two men flanked either side of the doorway. Upon entering, the third man that had previously occupied the chair opposite the business side of Madame B’s desk had stood and nodded at her instructor and handler, clearly a guest. Likely foreign, although that was more of a guess than anything else.</p>
<p>Stepping forward until she was ahead of the doorway’s guards but far enough behind Madame B that they wouldn’t notice her unless called upon, Natalia took the time to assess the room a second time for a more thorough read on the other unknowns. Both of the guards were dressed in black uniforms bearing a logo of a red octopus on their chests. The man, still standing with Madame B, was wearing a dark gray suit, standing out from the rest alongside the head of the Red Room with his business outfit, rather than the other mens’ tactical suits. He also wore the octopus insignia in the form of a silver lapel pin.</p>
<p>It wasn’t those three men that had caught her interest. However, it was the fourth man standing at attention in the shadows against the west wall near the door. Although he was clearly a physically imposing man, as evidenced by the muscle that corded his arms and other various parts of his body. He managed to be almost indiscernible from the rest of the office environment. Hell, if Natalia had been any lesser of a student, she thought she might have missed him entirely.</p>
<p>Well that might be a little dramatic, she thought. If she had been any lesser of a student she most certainly would already be dead.</p>
<p>Continuing her evaluation of the shadowed man, she noticed he hadn’t moved his eyes from the wall opposite his body. He stared intently, blinking only after long pauses in between each movement of his eyelids.</p>
<p>There were two things she noticed straight away from looking at him. First, his eyes were as blank as his facial expression, giving no indication of his emotions away, which Natalia found frustrating.</p>
<p>Her curiosity was insatiable, never being satisfied with just enough from her lessons and observations, always itching to ask questions and squeezing every drop of information she could get from a situation. That behavior was not tolerated in the Red Room. There was no room for questions. Lessons were given once, and students were expected to know them as soon as they were spoken. Repeating yourself wasted time that could be put towards honing your skills, rather than relearning what a student should have figured out the first time.</p>
<p>Someone once said that the eyes were the key to a man’s soul. They weren’t wrong, which is why the lack of information that she was able to gauge from his eyes was something she found interesting. They were completely blank, it was as if his body was a shell and there wasn’t a person inside. Natalia was intrigued by both the lack of movement or reaction from the enigma standing by the wall.</p>
<p>The second observation was that his left arm was completely made out of metal. Rather than wearing another octopus symbol--which she felt recognition towards but had yet to remember exactly where she recalled seeing it from—he had a red star painted on the upper part of his humerus, just below where his shoulder attached to his body.</p>
<p>Sizing up the rest of him, the man’s figure underneath the combat uniform was clearly toned, with lean muscle lining his entire body. It was also clear to her that though he projected an air of casual relaxation, his body was taut as a bowstring, tension carried in his shoulders and down his back.</p>
<p>Natalia would have continued her investigation if her attention hadn’t been shifted back to Madame B and the businessman as the man in the suit began to address her to her superior in front of her. Keeping an air of indifference, she watched and listened to the exchange.</p>
<p>“Это представление красных комнат? Эта девушка должна выполнить миссию?” (<em>This is the Red Rooms representation? This girl is to complete the mission?</em>) The man huffed, leaning back against the chair with a displeased and slightly incredulous look on his face.</p>
<p>Madame B's expression did not change, although her eyes darkened slightly. Answering, she said, “Она - будущая выпускница Красной комнаты. Она наша лучшая. Не стоит недооценивать нашу Черную вдову, командир.” (<em>She is the upcoming graduate of the Red Room. She is our best. Do not underestimate our Black Widow, Commander.</em>)</p>
<p>The man, now dubbed Commander, quickly backtracked, realizing he had displeased his potential business partner. “Конечно, мадам. Я всего лишь искал то, что отвечает интересам нашей страны, нашим целям и миссии.” (<em>Of course Madame. I was only looking out for what is in the best interests of our homelands, our goals, and the mission.</em>)</p>
<p>“Indeed you are, Commander,” Madame B replied, the icy look in her eye never leaving. The switch to English must have been an attempt to accommodate the foreigners, as it was clear that Russian was not their native language. English seemed to be the common language between the Red Room and other alien organizations.</p>
<p>These people seemed to be European of some kind. German, maybe, with the way the words rolled off their tongues, full of harsh vowels and dense consonants that they couldn’t manage to shake even in a different tongue. Consequently, their attempts at a Russian accent were all wrong.</p>
<p>Madame B turned to face her, and the Commander followed soon after. The Commander spoke first, “Congratulations on becoming the newest Widow. I am sure we will see great things from the Red Room in the future.” Natalia merely nodded her assent, not prone to speaking unless asked a direct question.</p>
<p>Madame B spoke directly to her, saying in English, “This is Commander Sauer, he and I are overseeing an alliance between the Red Room and Hydra through a joint mission. You and the Soldat will be briefed in a few days. You are dismissed.”</p>
<p>Natalia hated group missions. Any student of the Red Room knew that they should never rely on anyone else to get a job done. Relying on people was a weakness, and Natalia was not weak. She was better flying solo. Anything else is bound to be a recipe for disaster.</p>
<p>Without any further direction or delay, she deftly turned and walked out, but not without glancing once more at the Soldat her handler had looked towards, staring into his gray-blue eyes. She wasn’t expecting his gaze to meet hers, but it did. His expression was still unreadable. As she moved her line of sight from the Soldat back towards the door, she could help but think...</p>
<p>Who the hell is he?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>——</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Early June, 2002</p>
<p>Minsk National Airport</p>
<p>Minsk, Belarus</p>
<p>Natalia and the Soldat stepped off the sparsely occupied plane at about one-thirty in the morning. This was the only plane they were to take until their return to the Red Room in a few months. They’d be driving between the countries they would be visiting throughout the course of the mission.</p>
<p>The joint-mission would be the longest assignment Natalia had been given to date, as the goal was to eliminate confirmed and suspected international spies or agents working on cases involving institutions that either the Room or Hydra have had their noses dipped in or those within various governments across Europe whose ideals will not serve either Hydra or the Red Room well in the future.</p>
<p>On the note of Hydra, she knew that the Red Room had worked with an organization named Leviathan back in the forties and fifties, but otherwise the Soviet organization was rather reclusive and typically didn’t align themselves with outside factions for the sake of their anonymity. It seems that Hydra was similar in that respect, so both must have felt the other had quite a bit to offer because if there was one thing Natalia knew, it was that the Red Room needed no one, a lesson drilled into each of their students from their first day at the Room. So, clearly Natalia having to work with someone on a mission was strange. Nevertheless, it wasn’t her job to question Madame B’s decisions, but rather to implement them.</p>
<p>
  <em>And look where that’s gotten you. Waltzing around Europe with an unknown for God knows how long.</em>
</p>
<p>Yeah, clearly those thoughts never made it out of her mind and out into the open.</p>
<p>After finding the car that had been placed for them outside of the airport, they made their way towards a small hotel located just on the outskirts of the city. It was nondescript, ideal for the work that the pair planned to get done.</p>
<p>Walking up to the counter, Natalia linked her left arm with the Soldat’s right, making it seem as if they were romantically involved, seeing as it would look strange for a young man and woman to be rooming together if that wasn’t their relationship. It also kept questions to a minimum. The less they had to make up or lie about, the easier the mission was. After all, the best liars were those that barely lied at all, they just skirted the line of truth and bent it to their will, perfectly shaping a cover for whatever the situation needed.</p>
<p>One of the key lessons a spy learns is that nothing is ever based on want, it is always what one needs, and nothing more. Natalia does what she does because she needs to do it. It is essential for her survival, nothing more and certainly nothing less.</p>
<p>The Soldat’s eyes flicked over her as she leaned into him slightly, not enough for her to require his support to stay upright but rather an indication to have him put his arm around her as she squeezed the crook of his elbow slightly. Without hesitation his elbow rose and his arm came to rest across the top of her back and his hand to wrap around her right shoulder. The man at the counter looked up as they approached, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he went. As they reached the counter he asked, “Як я магу дапамагчы вам двум сёння?” (<em>How can I help you two today?</em>)</p>
<p>Before Natalia could reply, she heard the Soldat speak for the first time in perfect Belarusian, “Ці ёсць вакансія?” (<em>Is there a vacancy?</em>) The Soldat’s voice was a low, husky sound. It also carried a slightly hoarse quality, most likely from a lack of speaking.</p>
<p>Clearly surprised by the Soldat answering, the man startled so violently he knocked his cup full of various writing utensils across the desk and onto the floor by his own feet. Both Natalia and her partner watched as the man, frazzled by his own flailing limbs, scrambled to collect all his pens and pencils, cracking his head on the underside of the counter in the process.</p>
<p>She continued to watch the man’s face until she saw an epiphany pass through his eyes that A.) they were still there, and B.) he looked ridiculous on his hands and knees trying and failing to fix his own lack of coordination further worsened by the disorganized fashion at which he was attempting to pick up after himself. This was coupled with the fumbling of his fingers on the pens, causing them to slip out of fingers and fall back onto the floor. In all honesty, it was a tad pitiful. She couldn’t help but think that someone should give this guy a cookie.</p>
<p>Realizing that both organization and dignity was a lost cause, he peeled himself off the floor and lifted his chin to meet the Soldat’s eyes, “Адзінокі кароль?” (<em>Single king?</em>)</p>
<p>“Так,” (<em>Yes.</em>) he grunted.</p>
<p>After paying in cash and exchanging their issued identification papers, both spies walked with purpose up to their room, separating their arms as soon as they were out of line of sight of the clumsy desk man.</p>
<p>Opening the door and walking in, Natalia analyzed the room with a sweep of her eyes and proceeded to check the room for bugs after placing her bag on the floor. She watched her partner closely out of the corner of her eye, wanting to gauge the level of his standard espionage skills before any of the real work was to be completed. He walked around the room quickly and efficiently, his eyes carrying a focus Natalia could tell was sharper than a bird of prey, never missing any small detail that could compromise his survival.</p>
<p><em>Well would you look at that. We might just get through this joint-mission with all our limbs and wits about us if we keep this up.</em> She couldn’t help but internally snort at the thought. Of all the people on this Earth, she knew better than anyone that nothing was guaranteed, certainly not safety.</p>
<p>Finishing the search of the room with no findings of recording devices, she picked up her bag and walked towards the bathroom to shower and change in record time. Stepping back into the bedroom, she saw the Soldat sitting on the bed staring at the wall, the curtains drawn tight. He wasn’t blinking, but after a moment she saw something flash across his eyes, but it disappeared too quickly before she could begin to interpret it any further.</p>
<p>The man blinked before turning his head to meet her gaze. Natalia held it for a moment before looking towards the bathroom and tilting her head, indicating it was free. Her partner continued to stare at her a moment longer before rising from the bed and striding towards the bathroom without a word.</p>
<p>Knowing that the surveillance and planning would start in a few hours, she claimed the side of the bed furthest from the door and laid down, sliding one of her glock 26’s under her pillow. Staring at the ceiling, she thought about the Soldat. More specifically, she let her thoughts wander to Hydra, which she researched after the meeting in Madame B’s office. What the hell was the Red Room doing allying with an underground Nazi organization?</p>
<p>Before she could begin to speculate, her thoughts were cut off when the door to the bathroom opened and the Soldat stepped out. Taking the other side of the bed, they both laid under the sheets, inches apart, staring at the ceiling.</p>
<p>Natalia listened as the man’s breathing slowed, reaching the deep, even rhythm of sleep.</p>
<p>She didn’t fall asleep until hours later.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>——</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The mission in Belarus was simple. A member of the Polish Policja had stumbled upon a financial report that had ties to the embezzlement of funds to a Hydra outpost near the Polish border. The man had taken time off and had been in Belarus for the past few days. It wouldn’t have caused a problem had he decided not to investigate it. He had gotten too close, and Hydra needed him gone, preferably done quickly and quietly.</p>
<p>Neither of them spoke much. Natalia, although she possessed an insatiable curiosity, did not speak unless she felt it was relevant to the mission, a sentiment that was shared by her partner.</p>
<p>Natalia thought the Soldat, no matter how socially inept he may have seemed, actually possessed an intelligence she couldn’t help but respect in the deep recesses of her mind.</p>
<p>The goal was to be unnoticed. She would be in charge of sweeping the room for documents and the Soldat was stationed on the roof across the street with a rifle, waiting for the man to come up the street.</p>
<p>Before any of that, Natalia and the Soldat needed to run surveillance to see what the target knew and if any information was spread further than just his knowledge. Natalia had never been content with the idea of just enough information. The more she knew the easier it was to look for and find answers. After all, the easiest way of getting information was taking note of the actions completed by the person when they were unaware, especially if Natalia had the advantage of being unseen or was brushed off as another civilian.</p>
<p>She knew the man always took the side alley up the street from the bar he visited every night like clockwork. It was clear the man didn’t possess any skills or knowledge of how to stay under the radar. Both the man’s routine and his abysmal abilities to stay off the grid did him in. As soon as she came across those reports, he was a dead man walking.</p>
<p>Natalia searched the room for any information that could expose and compromise the anonymity of Hydra as well as gauge just how much the man had been able to uncover. Finding everything she needed to, Natalia made her way out of the hotel, being careful to avoid any of the cameras.</p>
<p>She didn’t hear the shot, the suppressor didn’t allow for that, but she did hear the sound of the body hitting the ground as she passed the alley in the early hours of the morning.</p>
<p>She kept walking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>——</p>
<p> </p>
<p>July, 2002</p>
<p>Tiergarten Park</p>
<p>Berlin, Germany</p>
<p>For as much experience as Natalia had in a vast majority of tactical situations, the Room never had any of the girls outside more than they needed to be during lessons. Natalia enjoyed being outdoors. But more than that she enjoyed the solitude that accompanied it.</p>
<p>She would have enjoyed it more if the Soldat had not followed her.</p>
<p>In his defense, he was entirely silent. And although the silence was not disturbed, she did not like the feeling of being watched. It was strange, though. His eyes never followed her with the intention to objectify, but rather with a sense of wonder or curiosity. Although his facial expression did not change, the look in his eye made it clear to her that he watched her stretch and move in amazement.</p>
<p>Dancing was something that came naturally to her. Her strong, lithe frame flowed between the moves easily, her body’s memory of the dances guiding her without needing to remember the exact movements and positions in her mind. When she was younger, she thought she would grow to hate ballet, knowing it was merely a stepping stone that helped create her into the assassin she was now. But later she realized that ballet was what it was. The movements never pretended to be anything they weren’t. It was honest. Probably the most honest thing in her life.</p>
<p>If you struggled with ballet, whether it be technique or the performance, the flaws became clear. It was her fighting style in its rawest form. Some may hate the notion of being something else or someone else, but Natalia saw it as a skill, a true asset to have in espionage. She thrived on it. Refined to an art, her ability to lie and deceive was nearly unparalleled, and she would not fail.</p>
<p>Natalia may not like parts of her job, but no one could ever say she was bad at it.</p>
<p>Finishing the movement, she looked back towards the Soldat. He hadn’t moved much from where he was stretching on the ground. He was still watching her with that look in his eye. Something in her chest tightened.</p>
<p>She decided that the Soldat, as quiet as he may be, was not bad company. Even if he crashed her alone time.</p>
<p>Natalia strangled a man in his bedroom that afternoon.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>——</p>
<p> </p>
<p>August, 2002</p>
<p>Autobahn, Germany</p>
<p>They were driving into Prague to assassinate a group of high-value targets gathering at a computer science conference. The Soldat was driving as Natalia was reading the files in the passenger seat.</p>
<p>The mission was slightly different than the last. Discretion didn’t matter. Most likely a bomb would be the best way to kill them all while both Natalia and the Soldat would be able to keep their anonymity.</p>
<p>Natalia had begun to search for the list of names when the Soldat spoke up, “The other file is behind you.”</p>
<p>She turned her head to the seat behind her in the SUV. She didn’t offer any thanks in return; however, she did nod in acknowledgment. His voice hadn’t changed much, albeit even quieter than the times he added input to the missions they carried out. The difference between the two being that he hadn’t spoken outside of intelligence sharing, and his voice carried a gentler tone.</p>
<p>She also noted that he had an American accent. She couldn’t place where exactly, but if she made bets, she would bet he was a native English speaker. She took note of that information for later.</p>
<p>The bomb that went off also killed twelve other civilians.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>——</p>
<p> </p>
<p>September, 2002</p>
<p>Brussels, Belgium</p>
<p>“Do you have a name?”</p>
<p>They were on a roof, surveying their next target. Over the last couple of months, they had turned into quite the team. It seems this joint mission would continue to go off without a hitch, at the rate they were going.</p>
<p>There was an event they would have to attend in a few days, which means they were going to need names, personalities, livelihoods, and more to come up with. Natalia excelled in all areas of undercover work, but this would be the first time the Soldat would be going in with her.</p>
<p>Natalia knew the best way to lie was to skirt the truth. Hence, using a name close to the Soldat’s real name would be the best course of action. It would be downright embarrassing for their fake name to be called and for one of them not to answer to it. Hell, she’d look like a damn amateur.</p>
<p>Standing shoulder-to-shoulder, she watched the Soldat’s chin tilt out of her peripheral vision in her direction. She turned her head towards him. His brows were pulled together and his eyes glazed over slightly, like he was lost in thought. She stayed silent, keeping her eyes trained on his face for a while before turning them back to the target’s apartment to watch for activity.</p>
<p>It was a while before the Soldat answered. Natalia didn’t think he was going to answer at all. She wouldn’t have thought much of it. It wasn’t like she hasn’t left people’s questions unanswered before.</p>
<p>“I-I don’t know.”</p>
<p>“You don’t know your own name?” Natalia asked. She’d heard a lot of strange answers in her lifetime, but this one was a new one.</p>
<p>“Hydra—they make it so I forget everything.” The crease in his brows grew more prominent, and his tone of voice became laced with confusion.</p>
<p>“So no one ever called you anything but ‘Soldat’ for as far back as you can remember?”</p>
<p>“There was this one man, he was a scientist, I think. I don’t remember much, but he once called me by a name. Whether or not it’s actually my name, I don’t know. It’s just what he called me,” he said.</p>
<p>Most would say they felt sorry for him. Pity him, even. But Natalia knew without asking him that he was someone who had defied all the odds and ended up here anyway. One might say he had shitty luck, knowing the occupational hazards of the job, but the fact that he had survived for this long showed that he had real skill. Natalia respected him for that, though she would never say it out loud.</p>
<p>She was curious. The question itched at her, so she did something she had never done before. She asked, “What did he call you?”</p>
<p>“He called me Yakov.”</p>
<p>Their target was dead in a ditch a day later.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>——</p>
<p> </p>
<p>October, 2002</p>
<p>Madrid, Spain</p>
<p>“What is your name?”</p>
<p>They were surveying again. The pair was in the Plaza de España tailing their newest target as he walked across the square towards the metro station in the eastern corner. She could tell that the man was paranoid. But for as paranoid as he was, it was clear that he had no experience tagging tails or any form of threat, for that matter.</p>
<p>The Soldat asked it as they were taking the scenic route towards the station, posing as a couple to better disguise themselves.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, the man was more observant than he had originally let on. Although, it was hard to gauge what someone had the ability to do when backed into a corner and their life was on the line. They were something akin to wild animals, unpredictable and dangerous, but also prone to making dumb decisions.</p>
<p>It looked like their target had seen their faces one too many times for him to call it a coincidence, and looked ready to make them out and likely alert people to any unsavory activities. Unwanted attention was the last thing either the Red Room or Hydra needed right now, let alone putting faces to their best operatives.</p>
<p>In a last attempt to prevent any further notice, she ignored Yakov’s question and said, “Kiss me.”</p>
<p>His head turned towards her with one eyebrow raised, clearly calling into question her order. But they didn't have time to dispute anything, so Natalia brought her hands up to rest on the back of his neck to bring his face down to her level and met her lips<br/>with his. Yakov’s lips were chapped, but he was undeniably a great kisser. One of his hands came to rest on her hip, and the other on her back. She was wondering if in a past life he did this a lot, because she had no idea how he would have learned to do this in Hydra.</p>
<p>Natalia pulled away when the man had passed by them and had a far enough distance ahead that they wouldn’t be noticed again.</p>
<p>“Natalia. My name is Natalia.”</p>
<p>The man’s body was never found after he went missing two days later.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>——</p>
<p> </p>
<p>November, 2002</p>
<p>Istanbul, Turkey</p>
<p>It was late, most likely past midnight. Natalia could hear the hustle and bustle of the city from stories above the streets. It was comforting, in a strange way. The Red Room was always quiet at night, the silence occasionally broken by the clink of their handcuffs against the metal headboard of their beds. She never realized the effect it had on her until she was away from it.</p>
<p>Natalia was sitting on the bed with her back against the headboard, watching Yakov’s attempt at sleep. She had a book in her hands, but the majority of her focus fell to the man that lay beside her. Something was wrong; his jaw was clenched so tight she thought his teeth might break and his one eye was twitching from underneath his eyelid. Although the question itself betrayed her concern for her partner, she did her best to keep any emotion from creeping into her voice as she asked, “Are you alright?”</p>
<p>Instead of an answer, Yakov groaned and his hands came up to grab his dark hair and pull on it. He looked pained.</p>
<p>Natalia nearly slapped herself. She was an idiot. She should have seen the signs. One of the girls in the Room suffered from debilitating migraines years ago. The girl, after a while, was unable to hide them. Her neck had been snapped during a sparring session.</p>
<p>Well, ripping out his own hair wasn’t going to solve anything. She closed her book, set it aside, and turned out the light on the bedside table she had left on while she read. Natalia debated touching him to get his attention, knowing migraines made people sensitive to both light and sound, but startling him would likely make the problem worse. Choosing what Natalia deemed to be the lesser of two evils, she whispered, “Yakov, can you hear me? Do you have a migraine?”</p>
<p>She received another groan in response, which she took as a yes. Against any form of common sense she possessed, she continued. “Can I touch you?”</p>
<p>It took a moment before she saw a small nod, and Natalia slowly reached out to take his hands, flesh and metal, and gently pry them from where they were gripping his skull to lead them back down to his sides. When she released them, she took her hands to slide one up under the back of his neck and the other under his shoulders. Slowly, she lifted the man so that she could slide her legs underneath him so that his head was resting in her lap.</p>
<p>Every muscle in Yakov's body was tense and he laid stiffly against her. Natalia took her hands and gently placed them on either side of his head, letting her fingers drift down to dig carefully into the rigid muscles of his neck and massage them until they became pliant under her fingertips. Moving upwards to where his neck met his skull, she broke the silence. “Do you get migraines often?”</p>
<p>She saw Yakov’s eyelids squeeze together. His metal hand reached up towards his face, but Natalia caught his wrist gently but firmly in her hand, guiding it back down and keeping a loose grip on it. Natalia prompted again, “Yakov?”</p>
<p>After a few minutes of him taking shaky breaths, he spoke. “W-When Hydra makes me forget, when they wipe me...after a while, some of the memories start to come back. They never make any sense; the memories only come in pieces. I keep seeing a blonde boy. It’s strange—I can still hear his chest wheezing and the crinkle of newspapers when he walks in his shoes, but I don’t remember <em>who he is</em>.”</p>
<p>Natalia closed her eyes. She felt a wave of rage wash over her. <em>How the hell could Hydra take away the entirety of who a person was?</em> It made a part of her feel ill. She was raised in this, but Yakov clearly had a life before this, or at least he used to. A part of her always wondered what her life could have been if she hadn’t been raised in the Room.</p>
<p>She had wanted a family, something she could call her own that wasn’t stained red. She had fought hard for what she had, but no amount of fighting would ever be able to give her that kind of life. Not with her ledger steadily growing more and more crimson. It was nothing more than a dream, a world like that was out of her reach.</p>
<p>Such fantasies were long forgotten. Call it acceptance, denial, whatever. It didn’t matter, but to have a life and to have it not only ripped from you, but to only just barely remember what it was like to have it?</p>
<p>Damn them for what they did to Yakov to leave him like this. The blood would never wash out of her hands, the Red Room made sure of that. But Yakov deserved better than this. Logically, she had no idea why she thought this, but her instincts did—and her instincts were never wrong.</p>
<p>She sat there with his head in her lap for hours, kneading the knots out of the muscles until was completely lax on the bed. She had almost thought he had fallen asleep with the way his breathing had evened out and remained steady for a considerable amount of time, until his next sentence delivered on an exhale interrupted her rapidly spiraling thoughts that she had been stewing on for most of the early hours of the morning. “Thank you, Natasha...for everything.”</p>
<p>Her hands stopped. Natasha? That’s new. No one has ever called her anything else but Natalia, except for when the Red Room addressed her as Widow. Nicknames signaled attachment...if anyone from the Room ever heard it, they would deem her compromised and her mission a failure. The rest of the assignment from the Room’s side of things would be washed and she would shame her organization. She couldn’t have cared less what happened to the Red Room’s reputation, but she had worked too hard for too long to let it all be ripped away by a pet name.</p>
<p>...On the other hand, something about the name Natasha sent a warm feeling creeping up her skin and left her with another squeezing feeling in her chest. Natalia was smart; she knew that this was crossing a line that she shouldn’t even be skirting, let alone abandoning, but a part of her knew she wasn’t going to discourage it. This was the small act of defiance that she would allow herself.</p>
<p>Besides, she liked the name Natasha.</p>
<p>But was it the name itself or was it because Yakov was the one saying it?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>——</p>
<p> </p>
<p>December, 2002</p>
<p>Rijksmuseum</p>
<p>Amsterdam, Netherlands</p>
<p>“If you could, would you want a family?”</p>
<p>Natasha considered the question as they glided across the floor of the Rijksmuseum during a charity ball. She knew the answer, but it made her wonder about other things, specifically about the family she had before the Room. The first thought being what had happened to her parents. She had been taken to the Red Room when she was six, and she didn’t remember anything beforehand. That period of her life was a mystery in more ways than one.</p>
<p>Her parents were likely dead, and she didn’t remember a damn thing about them. Natasha would like to say that a small part of her mourned for the mother and father that had been taken from her, but she had no recollection of having them in the first place. It was hard to mourn what you never had to begin with. Or rather what she couldn’t remember having at all.</p>
<p>So Natasha did what she always did. She kept going with what she had, and she used every skill, every piece of what she had been given to keep going.</p>
<p>She smirked. “Getting wistful on me, Yasha? You didn’t strike me as the type.” Natasha let a teasing tone color her words, taking any sarcastic bite out of her statement.</p>
<p>Her partner let out an amused huff, the corner of his lip twitching up slightly as his eyes flicked around the room. “I’m not, but with all these speeches about dreams of the future, you could say it’s got me curious.” They spun together, passing their target making a beeline towards the bar set up in the corner. His eyebrow arched, “And Yasha?”</p>
<p>She turned her head slightly, scanning the room as the hired security team changed positions for the third time that night. “Well if you’re going to be calling me Natasha, it’s only fair if I can call you Yasha. My ten o’clock, turret camera. All the security have a sidearm, baton, and walkie for comms.”</p>
<p>“Fine.” he said lightly, giving her a boyish, lopsided grin. “I count nine uniforms, the lead security member is standing at my seven, above us, on the stairs.” The musical piece was reaching its end, and Natasha felt Yasha’s flesh hand slide up towards her shoulder blade as she pivoted and gracefully was dipped, feeling the warmth of his hand seep in through both the fabric of her dress and the exposed skin of her back.</p>
<p>One again upright, the dance ended with her body pressed against Yasha’s, and Natasha could feel the rise and fall of his chest as well as his warm breath fanning across the top of her head. Looking up, she saw an amused glint in his eye before she pulled away.</p>
<p>Yasha offered his right arm towards Natasha. Taking it, they walked across the atrium towards the bar side by side. Slipping in near the target, Yasha ordered drinks for the both of them, and between the various conversations about careers, business, and finance being held by surrounding groups of people and the alcohol flooding their systems, no one noticed the poison that Natasha snuck into the man’s drink.</p>
<p>She took a sip of her vodka martini. “If the circumstances were different...yes, Yasha, I would.”</p>
<p>Her partner didn’t have to ask what question she was speaking of. He already knew.</p>
<p>Their man suffered a fatal heart attack a few hours later.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>——</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Natasha knew she was compromised.</p>
<p>She wasn’t stupid. This mission, like others, was meant to end. It was a one-time thing. A show of good faith between the Red Room and Hydra for the purposes of expanding both of their horizons. Yasha and herself were just a means to get there.<br/>It wasn’t meant to get personal.</p>
<p>Just her luck that it all went to shit.</p>
<p>Well, she couldn’t say it wasn’t at least partially her fault.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>——</p>
<p> </p>
<p>January, 2003</p>
<p>Bucharest, Romania</p>
<p>No one was ever supposed to find out.</p>
<p>Natasha had made the first move; she knew Yasha well enough that he wouldn’t do it. He was a man whose choices had been taken from him. He had a tendency to question himself on anything that didn’t have mission parameters.</p>
<p>She knew how important the idea of choice was to him. She moved slowly, almost glacial in comparison to how she typically moved or fought. Natasha was running on instinct, throwing everything she had been taught about seduction and flirtation from the Room out the window. She didn’t cut herself off from or bury her feelings, but rather she basked in it.</p>
<p>Yasha made her feel safe in a place where the idea of safety was laughable. An impossibility. They didn’t have a lot of time left, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to waste the time they did have together.</p>
<p>Who between the two said it first, Natasha couldn’t remember. What she did remember was the phrase that had been repeated to her dozens, hundreds, likely thousands of times over her years in the Room.</p>
<p>
  <em>Love is for children</em>
</p>
<p>She didn’t know the selfish desires that either the Red Room or Hydra had or what they hoped to achieve, nor did she think she’d ever find out. Neither of them could put words to what they shared, but they could act on what they felt.</p>
<p>In espionage at this level, there was a very slim margin for error. Most would say no margin existed, but those who had been in the game long enough knew that what no one else knew wouldn’t hurt them…so long as no one ever found out.</p>
<p>Hell, even if they did find out, Natasha doubted she could ever bring herself to regret it.</p>
<p>She couldn’t regret anything with Yasha. Not the way his stormy eyes would pass over her with a level of precision she wasn’t aware a person could achieve. Not the way it felt to have his arms, both flesh and metal, hold her close to the point that she thought their bodies had to have been fused together. Not the way the name “Nat” lovingly spilled from his lips, gasping like a man deprived of oxygen. And most certainly not the way he worshipped her, every breath from her body being pulled into his and whispered back out in a reverent prayer.</p>
<p>It was passion in its rawest form, and Natasha couldn’t help but feel as if this was a piece of her returned without her realizing it was missing in the first place.</p>
<p>When their moment of passion was over, Natasha laid there with her head resting on Yasha’s shoulder, her nose pressed against his neck. Closing her eyes and breathing him in, she let the steady sound of his heartbeat lull her to sleep.</p>
<p>No. Natasha had no regrets, even if this would be one of the last times she would ever see him. The pain was worth it. He was worth it.</p>
<p>And not a damn thing would change her mind about it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>——</p>
<p> </p>
<p>February, 2003</p>
<p>Red Room</p>
<p>Unknown, Russia</p>
<p>She thought no one would find out.</p>
<p>It was Natasha’s luck that after her internal declaration weeks ago that everything would come crashing down.</p>
<p>The mission had been finished for weeks. Yasha had been taken back to Hydra upon their return to the Red Room, and Natasha was getting ready to graduate. Madame B had yet to disclose the results of the last few months that Natasha had spent abroad, but the spy knew that her instructor and handler would be pleased with her work.</p>
<p>Naturally, it was that afternoon that Natasha began to feel ill.</p>
<p>She had been in a private lesson when the nausea started to come in waves. Barely managing to hold onto what she had eaten earlier that day, she had taken off her shoes quickly, walking with purpose down one of the vast, dark corridors of the facility. Natasha had been so focused on making a beeline towards the showers and the bathroom that she nearly walked straight into Yelena.</p>
<p>Ducking and spinning to avoid a collision, the fast movement did nothing to help the dizziness she felt, but nonetheless she maintained her composure to look back at Yelena, who had stopped and turned her shoulder back towards Natasha to give her a hard glare.</p>
<p>Yelena’s eyes had narrowed, sweeping up and down her body to rest on Natasha’s face. After a moment, Yelena pivoted back on the balls of her feet to continue to make her way to the other side of the compound, and Natasha silently thanked her naturally pale skin for preventing the other spy from noticing her ailment and her pallor.</p>
<p>Continuing to her previous destination, Natasha just hoped whatever illness this was would go away quickly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>——</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A few weeks later…</p>
<p>“Я хочу его убить. Сейчас же.” (<em>I want it dead. Now.</em>)</p>
<p>Natasha had miscalculated. She’d hid the symptoms for weeks, but between the lack of appetite and the motion sickness she got any time she danced or sparred, she finally had passed out.</p>
<p>It had only been a matter of time before Madame B would have found out. She knew this. But, what Yasha and her had was something she had desperately wanted to keep to herself. She had needed to keep this to herself. The memories she had of him, with him, was all she had. Natasha had never had the luxury of keeping secrets from the Red Room. Yasha had been the one selfish desire she had allowed herself. She would have taken that to the grave.</p>
<p>And she would have. Except the tiny child she had growing inside her, courtesy of Yasha, had changed everything.</p>
<p>After more than a week of periodic bouts of illness, she had her suspicions of her own pregnancy. Despite this, she had kept all of it quiet. In hindsight, she had no idea why; she wasn’t naive enough to believe that she would have made it through her entire pregnancy without anyone finding out, let alone actually managing to give birth to the child and whatever came after.</p>
<p>It was a dumb thought, thinking she would be able to keep the child, let alone be able to continue with the pregnancy when Madame B found out, but damn it all if she didn’t try. A baby was something she never thought she’d be able to have, and if it carried any of Yasha’s features or personality, then the world would be a better place with another person like him in it.</p>
<p>If that child would be able to live and grow up, that is.</p>
<p>So Natasha did the unspeakable. “Нет,” (<em>No.</em>) she said.</p>
<p>She saw anger flash across Madame B’s eyes. “Ты бросаешь мне вызов, Наталья? Этот ребенок безобразие до самого основания Красной Комнаты. Я не позволю одной из моих вдов запятнать репутацию этой организации. Я сказал убить его.” (<em>You defy me, Natalia? This child is a disgrace to the very foundations of the Red Room. I will not let one of my Widows tarnish this organization’s reputation. I said kill it.</em>) She motioned the doctor forward once more.</p>
<p>Little did she realize the doctor would become both her savior and torturer. “Если позволите, мадам, я полагаю, что Наталья могла бы предоставить нам интересный образец для изучения, будучи ребенком улучшенного. Конечно, для развития науки. Это может быть даже полезно для вас, если ребенок девочка.” (<em>If I may interject, Madame, I believe Natalia might provide us with an interesting specimen for study, being the child of an enhanced. For the purpose of furthering science, of course. It may even be beneficial to you, if the child is a girl.</em>) With a growing sense of horror, Natasha looked towards the doctor, watching as a slimy smile grew on his face.</p>
<p>Madame B turned her gaze towards the physician, black eyes silently analyzing the new possibilities. Looking back towards Natasha, she spoke in a level, deadly-calm tone. “Вы будете тренировать все время, вы будете продолжать работать в направлении вашей градации, которая будет происходить непосредственно после рождения ребенка. Если я ничего слышать о вас неэффективные в любом случае, я, не колеблясь, чтобы вырезать ребенка из вас сам, ты понимаешь?” (<em>You will train the entire time; you will continue to work towards your graduation, which will occur directly after the baby is born. If I hear anything about you underperforming in any way, I will not hesitate to cut the child out of you myself, do you understand?</em>)</p>
<p>Meeting her glare head-on, Natasha replied. “Да, мадам, я понимаю.” (<em>Yes, Madame, I understand.</em>)</p>
<p>After the doctor and her handler walked out, she let herself fall back into the chair behind her. Putting her head in her hands, she whispered, “Боже мой, что я сделал?” (<em>Oh my God, what did I do?</em>)</p>
<p>Yeah, Natasha knew she was screwed in more ways than one.</p>
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